


gather the nest

by majorrager



Category: Bob's Burgers (Cartoon)
Genre: Coming Out, Family, Gen, Genderfluid Character, Humor, Leaving Home, Midlife Crisis, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-30
Updated: 2015-03-30
Packaged: 2018-03-20 08:02:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3642759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/majorrager/pseuds/majorrager
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Six months in the lives of the Belchers. Bob tries to fight off a midlife crisis, Tina wants to move to Switzerland, Gene comes out of the closet, Louise plots out how she plans to grow up, and Linda is a part-time dominatrix with a lengthy Amazon wish list to fill.</p>
            </blockquote>





	gather the nest

One evening in April, Linda Belcher addresses her family after the dinner rush (all of four people) has finished. Tina is flipping the sign on the door from _OPEN_ to _CLOSE_ , Gene is picking off — or possibly adding to — a piece of gum stuck on the wall, Louise is sprawled out beneath one of the tables with only the glow of her cell phone to signify her position, and Bob is checking through tomorrow's inventory.  
  
Linda says, "We need to fix this place up."  
  
"You're telling me," mutters Bob, the lines on his forehead deepening.  
  
"As _tute_ , Mom," says Gene as the hunk of gum plops into his waiting hands.  
  
"Listen," says Linda. "I made a wish list on Amazon, and I think I know how to fill it. I got everything we need to renovate the hell outta this place."  
  
"A wish list?" Bob sets his clipboard down, frowning. "Like a registry, Lin? Who are we going to send that to?"  
  
"Sorta like a registry," says Linda. "Listen, I've been talkin' to your night-time friends—"  
  
"My _night-time friends_. Please don't tell me that you—"  
  
Tina's voice floats above Bob's as she takes a seat across from Gene. "Cha-Cha and the crew are lovely women. Marshmallow even agreed to let me interview her for my final Sexual and Gender Diversity paper. Remember?"  
  
Gene cocoons the gum inside of several napkins and sets his jaw in a pout. "I'm _still_ mad you didn't interview _me_."  
  
"Well, Gene," says Tina, "You're not exactly—"  
  
"What do _you_ know!" Gene interjects with an absurd, dramatic cry before she even has a chance to finish.  
  
Linda grabs the tip jar and bangs it loudly against the register to regain everyone's attention. "I was talking to Bobby's friends," she says loudly, "and I decided I'm gonna get into the domination biz."  
  
A dead silence drops over the restaurant. It is broken by a single loud command.  
  
" _WAIT._ " A pair of pink rabbit ears poke out from beneath a table, followed by a pigtailed head. Louise slaps her phone down on the linoleum and crawls into the light, hoisting herself up onto the seat next to Tina. She sticks her elbows on the table, and then her chin dips into her waiting hands. "Okay, _now_ I'm listening. Continue."  
  
Bob slowly unfreezes. "Oh my God."  
  
"It's not what you think!" says Linda briskly. This is followed by a somewhat less certain, "At least I'm pretty sure. Do a little cleaning on webcam, stick my socks in the mail, so what? What have we got to lose?" says Linda.  
  
"Cleaning on webcam?" repeats Gene skeptically.  
  
"Some people will pay to see that, honey," says Linda kindly.  
  
"Well, yeah, but," says Bob exasperatedly, and then he seems to realize something. "Hold on. That's right. Some people _will_ go paying for that. Like Pesto, and his... ugh."  
  
"His diaper fetish," says Tina helpfully.  
  
"That. Thanks, Tina," says Bob, knowing that he will not be able to dispel the mental image for weeks. He turns to Linda. "And... Marbles and Cha-Cha and them were telling you about this?"  
  
"Yeah!" says Linda brightly. "Come on, Bobby. I set up a little website, I say some mean things to some fellas, we get a new refrigerator."  
  
Bob looks torn. He rubs the top of his head. "Oh, God," he mutters. "It's kind of genius." And there's a slowly curdling, familiar assent in his voice— the tone that indicates that he will eventually concede to an idea.  
  
"You gonna be porking some non-Dad dudes, Mom?" Louise asks with great interest.  
  
"No! Not that there's anything wrong with having an open relationship. That works for some people, just not us," says Linda. "And don't say _porking_. What kinda slang is that? It isn't ladylike. You're fourteen."  
  
"Mmm," says Gene. " _Pork._ "

  


•

 

One morning in May, a package arrives at the restaurant. It's a large corrugated cardboard box, three feet wide and four feet tall. Amazon's logo is stamped across the side. Tina spends three minutes flirting with the handsome young delivery boy before she calls into the kitchen for Bob.  
  
Bob just stares between the box and the delivery boy as he wipes his wet hands off on his apron. "I think you have the wrong place," he says.  
  
The young man checks his clipboard. "Linda Belcher?" he asks. "Says right here. Care of Bob's Burgers. Ocean Avenue."  
  
"That," says Bob dumbly. "That's us. Okay. Sure." He holds his hands out for the clipboard. After he scrawls his signature across it, the delivery boy wheels his hand truck away and leaves the box behind to block access to the front door.  
  
"Mom's thing is already starting to pay dividends," says Tina admiringly as her father continues to stare at the box. "What do you think it is?"  
  
Bob pops a ballpoint pen free from his apron and uses the tip to split the tape holding it closed. "Let's see," he says.  
  
At the sound of tape ripping and cardboard tearing, Gene bounds in from the kitchen. "What's shakin'," he starts, and then stops: "Whoa."  
  
The convection oven inside is stainless, gleaming steel. Bob gets slightly emotional as he and Gene work to pull it free. The unit is industrial, standing on four sturdy legs, and Bob grants it a name immediately.  
  
"Belinda," he says, petting it over and over.  
  
"Very derivative, Dad," says Gene. "Mom will be happy."  
  
Linda herself shows up a few hours later with groceries in tow. "Whaddya know!" she says brightly as soon as she spots the new equipment. It's still sitting in the middle of the restaurant; Bob has refused to boot it up and give it a go without Linda there. "Good old Meatstick2020. Nice man. Really likes gettin' told what to wear."  
  
"Holy shit," says Gene. " _Meatstick2020?_ I finally know what to call my synthwave band."  
  
"Linda," says Bob adoringly. "Linda, this is the greatest thing that's ever happened."  
  
Louise comes downstairs when called, and she waits approximately ten minutes before she tugs her mother aside and sits her down in the corner booth. "Okay," she says finally, looking Linda in the eyes. "So I basically thought this whole idea was kind of dumb at first. No offense, Mom. You just don't have a great track record. But now I am seeing that this idea is actually _incredibly good_ , and I would like to sign on as your assistant immediately."  
  
Linda clucks her tongue sympathetically. "Louise, no," she says. "This is an adult thing."  
  
Louise's cheeks flare. "But being _mean_ to people and _getting free stuff for it_ is my DREAM JOB," she insists. "I've finally found something I wanna _be_ , Mom! Like, this is it! My destiny!"  
  
"You're still a baby!" says Linda. "And also, no. Just no. In general. Even if you were thirty."  
  
"We could _bond_ over this," says Louise threateningly, aiming for Linda's weak spot.  
  
"I'm callin' foul!" says Linda. "You wanna bond, we can go use those dinner theatre tickets I got. They expire at the end of August."  
  
Louise hooks her hands beneath the edge of the table and attempts to dramatically flip it. Because the base is bolted to the floor, nothing happens. "We could be making _bank_ together, Mom! _Bank._ "  
  
"No way," says Linda firmly. "It's not happening. You don't understand what this whole thing is, anyway! It's inappropriate."  
  
"Oh," says Louise sourly, her voice thick with sarcasm. " _Inappropriate._ Excuse me? You're the one showing your tits to dudes on webcam."  
  
Linda's expression turns scandalized. "Don't you say that word! And no, I'm not."  
  
Louise stands up from her seat. "Tits," she says slowly. "Titties."  
  
"Lou _ise_."  
  
Bob's voice calls out excitedly from inside of the kitchen, interrupting the both of them. "You have to come see Belinda _hum!_ "  
  
They exchange a look before they get up to join the rest of the family, and they all stand around the oven, faces pressed close, watching it glow. It's as quiet as a whisper. Louise is later sated when she finds out that she is getting a raise.

  


•

 

One afternoon in June, Tina presses a thick pile of papers down in front of her father.  
  
"I'm kind of," says Bob, "currently grilling, so." The grill is brand new. It had come in last week, and it had taken three people to unload it off of the delivery truck. It had been such a spectacle that Jimmy Pesto and his bartender had come to stand on the street to watch. Bob had a field day of it, screaming _Suck it_ like he was rallying a crowd. Bob's Burgers' gradual improvement, piece by piece, has not gone unnoticed. Patrons have been commenting on it lately. Bob has spent nearly every waking moment with the new grill since its arrival.  
  
"That's okay. I'll summarize. I want to spend my next semester in Switzerland," says Tina.  
  
Bob smacks down a patty and tries not to portray the shock he feels. "Tina, uh. Your mother. She wouldn't even let you apply to Rutgers, and that's not even that far. Hell, she used to get weird when you went to sleepovers."  
  
"I know," says Tina. "But I want to broaden my horizons." The way she says it makes it sound like she's rehearsed what she wants to say. "This could really further my growth, academically."  
  
Bob imagines his firstborn halfway across the world, and his stomach turns over. "Switzerland? What kind of learning can you do in Switzerland that you can't just do here?"  
  
This seems to throw Tina off-script, because suddenly she falters. "It's not really about that," she starts uncertainly. "It's—"  
  
"MOM," shouts Gene from somewhere else in the restaurant. Bob cringes and shuts off the grill, then sticks his head through the divider.  
  
"Gene? Are you okay? Remember that talk we had, about how we only yell like that during emergencies—"  
  
Gene slips behind the front counter. He is holding a pair of high heels. "These accentuate Mom's calves _so_ nicely," he says, and for some reason he is on the verge of tears. "They are one of her best looks. And you know what she's done with them?"  
  
Bob stares. "What did she do with them," he asks flatly.  
  
"Dad," says Tina from behind him. "Dad, about my semester abroad?"  
  
The heels are turned over to show their soles. They are covered in a strange, pasty substance. "This is marshmallow fluff," Gene sniffles in a tone that Bob usually associates with eulogies. "And I was like, hey! You don't find heels like this more than a couple of times in your entire life! Is this really worth a new microwave? _Is it?_ "  
  
_Yes_ , Bob wants to say, but Tina is tugging on his sleeve, and Gene looks like he might start crying at any second, and he isn't sure where to start when it comes to placating either one of them.  
  
"We are _losing ourselves_! This is what Madonna _meant_ when she said that we are living in a material world!" cries Gene, and then he flings the heels into the air. An overhead light shatters, showering glass down upon his head. Gene just stands there, not even flinching, looking defeated. One heel lands spectacularly on top of a stool; the other thunks into a wall somewhere and drops behind a table.  
  
"Oh my God," says Bob.  
  
"Ahhhhh," says Tina, belatedly.  
  
All three of them are still sweeping up glass when Linda and Louise return from the dinner theatre. Linda immediately launches into a song: " _Be careful when you're picking up glass! You get it in your fingers, and it's gonna get you bad!_ "  
  
This is apparently too much for Gene. "'GLASS' DOESN'T RHYME WITH 'BAD'. NO ONE IN THIS FAMILY UNDERSTANDS ME," he yells, and then he runs out the front door.  
  
"Do you think," says Louise as she watches him go, "that maybe he's dealing with more than just Mom's gross, sticky shoes? I mean, emotionally."  
  
Linda's expression softens. "They're blue. He knows blue isn't my color."  
  
"Right?" says Louise shrewdly. "I'm just saying, maybe we should brace for something huge."  
  
Tina grows frustrated. She dumps a panful of glass and dust into the trash bin and says, "Everyone, I'm going to Switzerland."  
  
"Tina!" Linda gasps, a hand flying to her chest. After a moment of consideration, she extends the last syllable, trilling it like an opera singer: "...Naaaaaaa _aaaa._ "  
  
"I have to do this for myself," says Tina, putting her hands on her hips authoritatively, pulling herself up to her full — still short — height.  
  
"Okay. Bye," says Louise decisively.  
  
"Just a semester," Tina adds hastily.  
  
Bob moves into the kitchen to retrieve the stack of papers. Now that he has a chance to look at them, he sees that it's nearly all paperwork— the requirements to send Tina away, and the fees associated with it. His heart nearly stops when his eyes roll over the numbers. "Tina," he says weakly. "Tina, this is expensive, and it's four and a half months without you here. It's a lose-lose situation."  
  
"For you," says Tina. "For me, it's a chance to experience, uh, the world as... an almost adult." She looks depressed. It's not the usual relatively neutral expression she wears. It's a sort of yearning that's written right into every feature.  
  
Louise seems to be the first to notice this. "Let 'er go," she says, and her voice is completely free of irony.  
  
Bob and Linda exchange a look, and then they sit down together with Tina to read over the paperwork while Louise heads outside to fetch and bring back Gene.  
  
That night, Bob lies awake in bed next to Linda, feeling uneasy for a reason he can't quite figure out.  
  
"Did you ever imagine we'd get here?" he says in a slightly dazed voice, staring up at the ceiling.  
  
Linda lowers her magazine. "What? Where?"  
  
"I mean, with one of our kids leaving, another going through... whatever he's going through, and the last one..." Bob trails off. He's not sure what's going on with Louise. He never is; she has always been a very self-contained child. "You know what I mean. And then there's you, with this crazy part-time webcam job where you get paid to tell random guys that they're pigs. Things are changing, Lin."  
  
"Things are always changing, Bobby," says Linda gently, sliding the magazine onto the nightstand. She turns over onto her side and lays her hand over Bob's chest, stroking it comfortingly. "Tina will go, and then she'll be back."  
  
"It's not," says Bob, his throat thickening, "it's not about that."  
  
"Sure it is," Linda chides. "I always thought the empty nest syndrome would hit you especially bad."  
  
Embarrassment overwhelms him. "Uh, okay, no, that's not what this is."  
  
"Yeah, it is," Linda says soothingly. "Now pull out the laptop. We have to decide what kinda lights we're getting to replace the ones Gene broke."

  


•

 

One night in July, Gene comes out of the closet.  
  
Around an hour after closing time, as Louise scrawls out plans for her summer vacation and Tina readies herself for a night out with a friend, he climbs up onto the counter, nearly knocking the brand new register over, and says, "I have to talk to all of you."  
  
"Can you please get off the counter, Gene?" asks Bob, leaping to save the register and lodge it back into place.  
  
"Let him talk," says Linda.  
  
"We just had these countertops replaced. Look at them. They're beautiful," says Bob.  
  
"Thanks to our friend xXLoyalPetXx," says Louise, pronouncing the _ex-ex_ on either side of the handle.  
  
"This is hard for me," complains Gene. He's holding his beat-up old keyboard in both arms, cradling it like a baby. He presses a few keys, playing a short melody, and stomps his feet. It sounds vaguely like Michael Jackson's _Bad_. "Listen, everyone," he says on the beat. "I. Am. Gay."  
  
This seems to surprise approximately no one, and they all exchange uncertain looks, not sure of what sort of response Gene is hoping for.  
  
"Don't look at me," says Louise irritably when Bob looks at her. "I've known for _years_. Honestly. I wasn't born yesterday."  
  
"Me, too," insists Tina. "I mean, I've known for years. Not that— not that I was born yesterday. I wasn't." There is a glob of mascara sticking under one of her eyes. Louise leans over and swipes it with a napkin.  
  
"Well," says Linda, looking up at her son. "Well, Gene, you know we all love the hell outta you."  
  
Bob nods firmly. "Honestly, a clean criminal record is all either of us ever hoped of any of you."  
  
"It's not just that," says Gene, and he props the keyboard onto a hip and plays a few more notes. "I've decided that I am tired of pretending." He's frowning, looking at each member of the family in turn. Then he takes a big, deep breath and says: "Sometimes I feel that I'm a girl! There! I said it!"  
  
That, at least, throws everyone off. Everyone except for Louise, whose smile just broadens smugly as she reclines in her seat, hands laced behind her neck lazily.  
  
"Can you, uh, explain?" asks Bob with confusion, clearly wanting to understand.  
  
"I just explained," said Gene. "Sometimes I feel like I'm a girl. Not that complicated, Dad." Then he heaves an enormous sigh of relief and begins climbing down, handing his keyboard off to Linda so that he can grip the edge of the counter. " _So_ glad that's out of the way! Feels like I just took an amazing shit. _Emotionally._ "  
  
"Love you, Gene," says Louise.  
  
Linda sets the keyboard aside and helps Gene down. "Glad you feel better, honey."  
  
"So you're like Glitter and Marshmallow and the others?" asks Tina, then her face contorts in realization. "I'm sorry. I really should have interviewed you for that paper."  
  
"No," says Gene. "Because I'm not a girl all the time. Just sometimes. It changes. And it's okay, I've already forgiven you."  
  
"Are you my sister now?" says Tina worriedly. "I'm always the last to know."  
  
"Excuse me," says Bob. "I had no idea either."  
  
"Yes and no," says Gene, smiling. "Sorry! It's complicated. I'm a complicated girl. You can just keep calling me all the same stuff, if you want. I mean, I like my name. Gene is a perfectly good name for my essential self whether I'm a boy or a girl."  
  
"You were always the prettiest sister," Louise says.  
  
" _Louise_ ," says Linda sternly. "You and Tina are both beautiful too."  
  
"No," says Tina. "No, I agree with Louise."  
  
Bob takes a seat at one of the stools, rubbing his temples. It's all a little much to handle. "Well," he says finally. "I love you, Gene. No matter what. We all do."  
  
Gene slides into the stool next to him. "Yep," he says, looking cheerful again for the first time in months. "So who's coming out next?" He whirls around. "Louise?"  
  
Louise chokes with laughter. "What the hell am I gonna come out as? A closet philanthropist?"  
  
"You know," says Gene solemnly.  
  
Wanting to put a stop to this before anything else occurs, Bob puts up his hands. "No one else come out as anything," he pleads, strained. "That's enough for one night. Let's all just please go upstairs. I'll make dessert."  
  
Later, Louise carries her parfait over to the living room, where Bob is watching television. "Burn Unit?" she offers, crumpling onto the couch next to him.  
  
Relieved, Bob nods. "Yeah," he says, flipping immediately away from the news.  
  
Louise draws her knees to her chest and spoons a mound of chocolate cream into her mouth. "So, Gene is gay and genderfluid and Tina's ditching the entire continent," she says, instead of launching into her usual mocking tirade at what's on the television. "And Mom's a thriving illicit internet star. I bet you're waiting for me to cause some kind of drama too, right?"  
  
"To be honest," says Bob, bracing himself. "Yes."  
  
"Well, I'm not going to," says Louise. "Not right now. I'm writing a rain check. Gene's sixteen. Tina's nineteen. I think those sound like good ages to give your parents heart attacks. I still got at least two years."  
  
Bob turns to look at her. "Louise, to be honest, if there's anything on your mind that you want to say right now, just say it. It wouldn't really be adding any more stress right now."  
  
"I've got nothing," says Louise sincerely, and she shoves her spoon in his mouth. "Honest. I just wanted you to know, since I plan on raising hell _eventually._ I just need to figure out what about."  
  
"Well, uh," says Bob, wiping dessert off of his mustache. "Thanks for the warning."  
  
"You're welcome," says Louise, and then she turns to the television. She's all stability and comfort, self-assured and certain. Bob puts an arm around her, and for once, she doesn't shove him away.

  


•

 

One early morning at the end of August, Tina leaves for Switzerland. Everyone piles into the dented old station wagon to take her to the airport.  
  
"Can you add cars to an Amazon wish list?" asks Gene thoughtfully, picking a hunk of foam out of the back of the front passenger seat. "We sure need a new one."  
  
"No," says Bob. "Stop destroying the seat."  
  
Tina's squashed into the back between Louise and Gene, clutching her phone with white-knuckled fingers. She's been in a constant state of high stress for the past week, occasionally bursting into repetitive, panicked yelping. She keeps insisting that she's excited, though, and everyone has tried to believe her. "What if I'm seated next to someone creepy on the plane?" she asks, deeply concerned. "Or, worse, someone really good-looking?"  
  
"You will both be breathing the same filtered air for, like, ten hours," says Louise. "So be sure to make the most of it, and suck it all in."  
  
"What if I get there, and no one understands me, and I have no idea how to get to my school, or the homestay—"  
  
"I'm pretty sure most Europeans speak English," says Linda pacifyingly. "They're real civilized over there. Doesn't Sweden have a dozen official languages?"  
  
"Switzerland," Tina corrects, and then she starts her usual groan— it's low and tuneless, like an overworked radiator. Gene reaches over to rub her shoulder soothingly.  
  
"You're gonna do _great,_ " says Gene, who today is wearing eyeliner and glittery nineties-throwback sandals. "Leaving it all behind and stuff. Super brave, Tina. Don't worry, I'll make sure Jimmy Jr doesn't find a girl to replace you while you're gone."  
  
Tina's groan becomes louder, more agonized. Linda turns in her seat. "Apologize, Gene," she says disapprovingly.  
  
"What?" says Louise in support. "That's a real possibility. We can't just _lie_ to Tina, Mom. Four months is a crazy long time in the heart of a tiny dancer like Jimmy Jr. Blue jean baby's gonna marry a music man."  
  
Bob sputters with laughter. The car swerves. "Louise, how do you know the lyrics to _Tiny Dancer_?"  
  
"Seriously!" Gene looks affronted. "You said you wouldn't join my Elton John tribute band! Remember that? A year ago? You said you didn't even like him!"  
  
"I don't," says Louise defensively. "I just appreciate select songs from his discography."  
  
Tina is still groaning as Louise and Gene launch into an animated argument on either side of her, flinging petty insults at one another. Linda reaches over the back seat to clasp her hand, squeezing it tightly. "You know what to do, Tina," she says gently. "Don't go underestimating yourself."  
  
The goodbye is a mess. They see Tina off at the gate, waiting until the last possible second. Linda and Gene both cry theatrically, causing airport security to approach the two of them for a welfare check. Louise hovers back, reluctant, stepping forward to hug Tina only after everyone else has. Bob remains resolute until Tina actually leaves, and then he is the very picture of misery. Even Louise doesn't have it in her to make fun of him. The trip back from the airport is much quieter than the trip there, at least until Gene decides that he's had enough.  
  
"Tina wouldn't want this!" he yells.  
  
"Yes, she would," says Louise. "She would love it if she knew we were all sad because she's gone."  
  
"...That... is true," says Gene, defeated for a moment, before he rebounds. "But she'll be back before we know it! Let's do something exciting while she's gone. I propose that Dad loses a bunch of weight!"  
  
"Why are you volunteering _me_ for that," Bob groans, alarmed.  
  
"You kind of need to," says Linda.  
  
"Yeah," says Louise.  
  
"I don't need to lose _that_ much weight," says Bob self-consciously. "But if I did go on a diet, everyone else has got to make a lifestyle change, too."  
  
"Fine," Gene crows smugly. "I'm gonna run for Homecoming Queen."  
  
"I'll start yoga!" Linda offers.  
  
"I'm going to get a tattoo," says Louise.  
  
"No tattoos," say Bob and Linda at the same time.  
  
"Okay. A piercing," says Louise.  
  
"Maybe," says Linda, while Bob says, "No," and then looks at her in betrayal. They spend the rest of the drive back discussing reasonable options for Louise's aesthetic and rebellious concerns as Gene plots out a Homecoming campaign.  
  
When they get home, they pull up at the same time as a delivery truck. Linda climbs out before Bob is fully done parking, walking up to examine the package and sign for it. Bob comes up a minute later, keys dangling in one hand. "What is it?" he asks.  
  
"A knife block," says Linda, but she's frowning, confused. "This wasn't on the wish list." But it's addressed to Bob's Burgers, and they carry it inside. Once they have it on one of the tables, they get it open and examine the contents. Laying right on top of the plastic wrap is an invoice. Louise snatches it up and looks over it. She smiles.  
  
"It's from Tina," she says, holding the invoice out. Bob grabs at it. It's true: Tina's name is right there on the payment info.  
  
"She ordered this three weeks ago. She planned this." Bob shakes his head in disbelief as Gene pulls the knife block free of its packaging. It's solid wood with a dramatic carving of a stallion burned into the side.  
  
"Very _Tina,_ " Gene says. "She wants to make sure you think about her, and also about handsome man-horses, every time you reach for a knife."  
  
"Oh, Tina," says Linda, sniffling. "I gotta call her the moment she lands."  
  
They set the knife block in the kitchen, in a place where it'll always be visible. Louise even holds back her commentary about the stallion's noticeable muscles for two whole days.

  


•

 

One evening in September, Linda declares that her Amazon wish list has been completed in full.  
  
The restaurant looks better than it has in years, or ever. The kitchen has been almost entirely retrofitted with new equipment. The front of the restaurant has also gotten a significant makeover. Everything shines with newness. Jimmy Pesto is suitably infuriated, even though — as he has pointed out — it hasn't done that much to stir up new business. Bob thinks that hardly matters in the face of how great everything in the restaurant looks now.  
  
"It's done," says Linda as they set up the new microwave. "I'm officially retired. I did what I said I would. No more."  
  
The four of them stand there, looking around at their still recognizable yet totally different surroundings. Louise taps a hand against the microwave, punching a few random buttons. "Don't you feel bad? It's almost like we redid the whole place with blood money," she says. "We have a brand new restaurant because some perverts on the internet couldn't control themselves. A sucker's born every minute."  
  
"That's not anyone's fault but theirs," says Gene, grinning wide. "Hey, look. It's almost ten-thirty."  
  
They close up and head upstairs to gather together in the living room. Linda's webcam will live on with a new job, even though she is now retired: it's their connection to Tina. They set it up on top of the television and, right on cue, Tina logs on. She looks sleepy on the grainy feed, but it is six-thirty in the morning over there, after all.  
  
"Hey, sweetie! Guess what?" Linda says triumphantly. "We're all done. This mistress is _finished_."  
  
"That's great, Mom," says Tina, and although the image is little more than a handful of pixels, they can see her smile.  
  
"You bet," says Linda. "Now tell us what you're up to today."  
  
An hour later, once they've caught up on Tina's latest adventures in Zürich, they're forced to bid her goodbye so that she can get ready for school. Bob and Linda send Gene and Louise off to bed. They listen through the wall for a little bit as Gene camps out with Louise in her closet-turned-bedroom, practicing his Homecoming Queen pitch, and then they head off to get ready to sleep.  
  
Bob is brushing his teeth and Linda is drying her hair when she says, "I can't believe I'm finally done."  
  
"Yeah," says Bob through a mouthful of foam. "Half a year ago, it just kind of seemed, uh. Insane. Are you still going to be talking to any of those weirdos?"  
  
"Nah," says Linda. "That was a job. I think it'd ruin their whole fantasy thing if they knew I was a nice person all along, anyway. As far as they're concerned, I'm gone forever. The sadness and devastation of my retirement is my gift to them."  
  
"God," says Bob. "People are weird." He spits into the sink and rinses. "I'm glad you've got your free time back, though. You wanna go on a date or something? Soon?"  
  
Linda smiles, reaching over to touch his arm, and they move to the bed. "Yeah. I signed you up, too." There's a pause, before she clarifies, "for yoga."  
  
Bob has never thought he'd feel happy to be told that he'd been signed up for physical activity without his consent. He climbs into bed with his wife. "Yeah, that sounds fine." This time when he stares at the ceiling, it's not because he feels uncertain. He feels content, in a strange way. Complete. "God. It's been a crazy six months."  
  
"It's been a crazy life," Linda amends. "Just one more bump in the road for our wagon."  
  
Bob thinks about that. He thinks about how his oldest child is hours into the future, across the world, genuinely coming into adulthood, fully realizing her identity. He thinks about his middle child, ever mutable and wild, a force of energy and creativity to be reckoned with, the very definition of a free spirit. He thinks of his youngest child, who's not a child any more, who's always been the wisest of any of them in her own way. And he thinks about his wife, who is everything all at once.  
  
"Things actually feel okay," says Bob, surprising himself.  
  
"It always works out," says Linda. She reaches over to shut off the light, and he pulls her close. He sleeps easy.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments, critique, questions— all are encouraged and appreciated.


End file.
